


Loose Change

by darkavenger



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7180469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entirely unnecessary au where Carlos meets the Boss at a laundromat when the Saints are already up and running again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Change

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr.

“Hey kid, got some change?” 

Looking up from the magazine he’d been idly thumbing through, Carlos’s mouth drops at the sight of the guy standing in the laundromat door. 

“Uh, sure,” he says, reaching shakily into the pocket of his tracksuit pants to pull out a handful of change. 

“Thanks.” 

The leader of the Third Street Saints takes his change and drops it carelessly on top of one of the washers, before beginning to strip out of dirty, blood-splattered clothes. As he shucks off more layers, a handgun, smart phone and car keys join the pile of change. Carlos averts his gaze as more and more lean, scarred skin appears and tries not to look like he’s staring, but damn. The most notorious gang-leader in Stillwater at his local little laundromat, the day he happened to be doing laundry. It’s like seeing a celebrity in the line at McDonalds. Un-fucking-real. 

“You want to take a picture?” 

“Huh?” Carlos says, caught off-guard by the seeming non-sequitur. 

The Saints’s Boss gives him an amused look, before pulling his tank top over his head and letting it drop to the floor. “You’re staring. I said, take a picture. It’d last longer.” 

Carlos’s cheeks burn. He looks down, embarrassed. “Sorry.” 

The Saints’s Boss chuckles. He doesn’t seem mad at least, which gives Carlos the courage to ask, “Hey… you’re the leader of the Saints, right?” 

Again the Boss looks at him, and Carlos resists the urge to squirm in his seat. “Yeah. Is that a problem?” he says the words mildly enough, but not even the fact he’s clad in just his boxers can make Carlos forget who he is, or what he’s capable of. 

“No, not a problem,” Carlos says hurriedly. “My brother - he was with the Saints.” 

Not looking away, the Boss cocks his head to the side, as if to scrutinize Carlos a little closer. “Was. He died?” 

“Yeah.” Carlos looks down. 

“Sorry about your brother,” the Saints’s Boss says, finally looking away from Carlos. He reaches down to grab his discarded clothes and tosses them into the washing machine. 

Carlos shrugs, tamping down on the old pain. “Shit happens, I guess. Hey, you want to use some of my detergent? I got fabric softener as well.” 

This time the Saints’ Boss looks at him like he can’t work him out. “Fabric softener?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Carlos risks a grin, “trust me, it’s a lot nicer than without.” 

The Boss snorts, but holds out his hand for Carlos to pass the detergent anyway. “Thanks, kid.” 

“Anytime,” Carlos says, hunching his shoulders in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment at the acknowledgement. 

The Saints’s Boss shuts the washing machine door and sets the cycle before hopping up to sit on top of the washer next to it. “So,” he says, over the noise of the machine, “you never think of joining?” 

“Who, me?” Carlos can’t hide his surprise. “Join the Saints?”

“Yeah. Or did your brother getting killed put you off?” 

Carlos shakes his head. Death came for them all, he figured. The only thing to do was try and make peace with that. 

“Then how come?” 

“Wasn’t sure they’d want me,” Carlos admits, not looking up. What exactly did he have to offer the gang? Laundry advice? He shakes his head in self-derision.

“You seem like a good kid,” the Saints’s Boss says, “I’m sure I can find a use for you.” 

Carlos looks up at that, startled and a little flustered. The Boss catches his eyes and grins crookedly. Before Carlos can ask him what he means, the Boss’s phone starts to ring. 

The Boss snatches the phone before it can vibrate itself off the side, and answers it with a curt, “Yeah?” 

Whoever’s on the other end of the line is speaking too fast for Carlos to catch what they’re saying, but he can tell from the way the Boss’ jaw clenches it’s not good news. 

“Hang on Pierce. You saying the Ronin trying to take back downtown? The fuck they are.” The Boss slides off the washer to his feet and grabs his keys. “I’ll be right there.” 

Carlos looks back at the magazine, trying to pretend like he hasn’t been listening in. “You gotta go?” 

“Yeah,” the Boss says distractedly. 

“You going like that?” 

The Boss looks down like he’d forgotten he was almost naked, then smirks. “Sure. Why not.” 

“You want me to come?” Carlos offers, “I could help out.” 

The Boss looks at him consideringly, then shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good.” 

“Oh.” Carlos tries not to sound disappointed. He scuffs a sneaker on the floor. 

“You could do me a favor though. Put my washing in the dryer, bring it round to Purgatory. You know where that is, right?” 

“Sure,” Carlos nods, “I can do that.” He could play errand boy, he guessed. 

“Cool,” the Boss says. “We’ll see about getting you canonized after that?” 

“Canonized?” Carlos’s head jerks up and for the second time that day his jaw drops. 

“Yeah,” the Boss says, giving him a look that says ‘keep up’. “You want to be a Saint, right?” 

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” 

“Good,” the Boss gives him a smile that shows a lot of his teeth, and grabs the gun from the side. “See you later, kid.” He tosses a wave behind him as he goes, leaving Carlos wondering what exactly just happened.


End file.
